


a way where you might tread the sun

by everystarfall



Category: Austin & Murry-O'Keefe Families - Madeleine L'Engle
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everystarfall/pseuds/everystarfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years after the summer of the dolphins, Vicky returns to Seven Bay Island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a way where you might tread the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emkaaaay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emkaaaay/gifts).



> Thank you to emkaaaay for giving me the opportunity to write in this universe - which has been a favorite for many, many years. Happy Yuletide :)

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Adam asked for about the thirtieth time as he helped secure my bike in the back of the Subaru. He’d been up visiting from Mystic for the week - a rare vacation that he could not extend beyond today - which was one of the reasons that it was getting annoying of him to keep asking to come with me. On the other hand, it was thoughtful of him, in the way he had. It had been nine years since I last visited Seven Bay Island - not since the summer of Grandfather, and the dolphins - my parents had sold Grandfather’s house the year after, and there hadn’t been the same reason to visit the Island again. But I was going back. Leo had called out of the blue to tell me his mother was retiring, and it struck me how much I missed them - the Rodneys, the Island, the big flat rock on the beach in Grandfather’s cove, the calmness. Not that Northampton Massachusetts was anywhere near the craziness of New York City, or even as hectic as it had been when I’d been a student here. And maybe it was an association after the fact, but I’d come to think of Seven Bay Island as a place where I could think clearly - more than anywhere else, almost - and I really needed to be able to think clearly at this point.

“I’ll be fine. Jane will watch out for me,” I assured Adam, scratching the head of Jane Eyre, my Great Dane rescue. She was the first pet I’d had on my own, and it seemed important to bring her to the Island, too; all the most important parts of my life should be acquainted. Adam gave Jane a pat as well, smiling as if he knew he was worrying and I was getting annoyed. It was one of his admirable qualities, recognizing the places where our personalities clashed. I wished I had more of that ability. 

“Alright, sweetie,” Adam said, leaning across Jane to kiss me. “Drive safely. Call me tomorrow.” 

“You too. Driving, I mean.” 

“I know.”

He gave me another quick kiss and helped me herd Jane into the car. It was still warm enough to roll down the windows, and Jane gave an enthusiastic bark of farewell as we started the journey back to Seven Bay Island.

***

Because I was bringing my car to the Island, I had to take the ferry. It was a good excuse not to have to call the Rodneys to arrange to take the launch - Leo had indicated that Jacky was running it now - and I had long since come to the realization that I am a coward when it comes to people. Not all the time, and not when it has really mattered to me, but still - I didn’t think too hard about the fact that bringing my car might be an excuse to avoid people for a little longer. It did seem silly to make the trip at all, especially to see Mrs. Rodney and Leo and Jacky, if I was going to try to avoid them up front. Maybe I just needed to work up my courage a little.

In my continued avoidance, I had Jane with me, so I couldn’t stay at the Inn, and instead had reserved a room at a new bed & breakfast that allowed pets. For all that I was looking forward to my return, in some ways it seemed like it had to be a completely new experience - that I shouldn’t try to immerse myself in what I expected to be familiar - because it had been too long and too much had changed, and I knew without knowing that it wouldn’t be familiar anymore. Or - which seemed even worse to me - that it would be the same, and that I was the one who had changed too much. 

Pippa, the woman who owned the bed & breakfast, met me out front as Jane was stretching her legs from the car and ferry ride. “You must be Vicky!” she announced pleasantly, reaching to take my bag as I wrestled my bike out of the back of the car. 

“Yes, hello. This is Jane Eyre.” I scratched Jane’s head and Pippa held her hand out for Jane to sniff, rather than going right to pet her, which heartened me. I appreciated when people who had made the decision to be around other people’s pets knew something about how to approach animals. 

“There’s a shed around the side you can park your bike,” Pippa was saying as she led us into the converted house. “The weather’s been lovely so far, but September storms come quickly and unexpectedly.” I stored my bike where she had indicated and let her chatter away pleasantly about the Island. It occurred to me that I hadn’t mentioned to this woman the reason for my visit, and that she had no way of knowing that I had been coming to the Island long before she had set up her business. The prodigal daughter, and all that. 

“It’s really past the end of the season,” Pippa said after she showed Jane and me around the common areas in the house and led us to our room, “so I’m afraid it’s just you and Jane Eyre staying at the moment. Breakfast is at seven in the morning, will that be alright?” I said that it was. “There aren’t very many restaurant options for dinner here on the Island, but-” 

“Thank you. If I could use the phone, I’m hoping to meet up with old friends this evening, actually,” I interrupted, trying not to sound too haughty. 

“Of course,” Pippa said. “I’ll leave you these brochures for some of the businesses you may wish to check out during the day. Just dial 9 to get an outside line,” she added, indicating the phone on the desk. It seemed to me that she was regretting not having asked me why I was visiting - but then it may also have been my imagination. Suzy always said I had a habit of selfishly imagining people wanting to know more about me when they really couldn’t care less. I always replied that it was maybe leftover paranoia from when her Spanish teacher was involved in my almost being left to die on an iceberg in Antarctica. My relationship with my sister was always a difficult one. 

***

I would have liked to have biked to the Rodneys’ for dinner, but I wanted to bring Jane, so we took a leisurely walk. The weather, as Pippa had said, was mild, and it was still early enough in autumn that it didn’t get dark before dinner. 

“Vicky!” Nancy Rodney cried with delight from her kitchen doorway. “Leo didn’t tell me you were here already!” She enveloped me in a warm hug, and I felt tears stinging my eyes. For all that I’d been returning to the Island as if it were a different place and knowing I was a different person, Nancy Rodney’s solid, stable, down-to-earth goodness was something that was never going to change - and there was an overwhelming comfort in knowing that, especially in this world of constant change. 

“I wanted to surprise everyone,” I admitted, which was a slight prevarication. “I hope it’s alright that I’m here.”

“Of course, of course, I was so happy when you called. Leo will be home in about twenty minutes, his shift is almost done, and Jacky just ran out to the store for me. They’ll be delighted to see you.”

Dinner at the Rodneys’ was wonderful and easy; Jacky and Leo both hugged me when they arrived, and I felt the calm fortitude that comes from being acknowledged and held by someone who knows your history - no matter how long it had been since I’d seen them. My earlier avoidance now seemed silly. We caught up over spaghetti. Jacky was running the launch and taking classes at the community college on the mainland; Leo was working for the Coast Guard. 

“I’m running the Seven Bay half-marathon next week,” he told me. “No chance you could stay that long to cheer me on?” Leo’s face reminded me of that puppy-dog eagerness he had that summer nine years ago, when he was more interested in getting me as his girlfriend than dealing with the rest of his life, it seemed. 

“Unfortunately I have to be back to work by Wednesday,” I said, with genuine regret. Mrs. Rodney had told me about Leo’s health kick for eating and exercising, and all that he was doing to stay “heart-healthy.” The Rodney history of heart disease lay unspoken between us. 

“What are you doing now, Vicky? You were in a Master’s program last time I spoke to your parents, if I recall correctly?” Mrs. Rodney turned to conversation to me as she passed me the salad. 

“I earned my Master of Arts in Teaching English this past spring,” I explained, “and I currently am a research assistant for one of my professors, but I’m looking into other options.” I had come back to the Island to figure out my life, and among these practical people who knew me but couldn’t judge me the way my family could, I still couldn’t seem to lay out my full dilemma. 

“Well your Grandfather was always so proud of your writing, I’m sure he’d be so proud of you, honey,” Mrs. Rodney said, patting me on the arm. I couldn’t keep the tears from welling up again; Grandfather had always believed in my writing, in my ability to write, and the fact that I was doing something else, that I might do something else even just to pay the bills seemed like I was letting him down. And I was afraid that I might get too caught up in working as a researcher, or a teacher, and I wouldn’t have time or energy or inspiration to write; that I was looking at my future from the top of a long incline, and if I took even one step onto this path, the momentum would carry me away and I’d never be able to change to the path I really wanted.

Jane took that moment to yawn loudly and thump her tail against my chair, and it was enough to distract everyone until Jacky changed the subject. I let it drop; the Rodneys were wonderful and easy, but maybe still too familiar with me for me to unload my crisis on to. 

***

Leo offered to walk me back to the bed & breakfast, and I took him up on it happily. It had grown cold as the evening wore on, and I accepted his coat to wear on the walk as well. We walked in companionable silence for a while, until Leo broke it with a laugh. 

“What?” I asked.

“This is the sort of thing I always wanted to happen when we were kids.” He said ‘kids’ in a way I knew to mean ‘teenagers.’ “Me walking you home at night, you wearing my jacket.” 

I had to laugh too. “And now?” 

“Now I’m glad to see you, and talk to my old friend,” Leo said, and put his arm around me, and it felt good, and better than it ever had when he’d tried it that summer. He’d grown up a lot - a lot more than I had, it seemed.

“Leo-”

“My mom’s retiring because she has cancer,” he blurted out. 

“What?” I stopped dead in my tracks, and Jane started to whine, picking up on the changed dynamic.

“She’s alright. I should say, she had cancer - it’s in remission. She actually stopped working a while ago, it’s just now is the official party. Jacky and I can support her though, and not having the stress of the job is helping her stay healthy, too.”

“Leo, I … I had no idea.” I turned back, looking towards his house, as if it made sense to run back and apologize to Mrs. Rodney. For what, I didn’t know. 

“She didn’t want people to know, really. They caught it early, she got good treatment and is doing well. It was a difficult time, but we all got through it together.”

“Leo, I’m-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry, Vicky.”

“Okay. I won’t.” I still hadn’t moved, struck dumb by this pronouncement, and Leo’s vehemence. “Tell your mom I love her, please?” I added, wishing I’d said it myself before I had this new information.

Leo visibly softened. “I will.” He offered his arm and I took it, and we continued. “So why are you really here, Vicky? I never expected you to come when I called.”

“It doesn’t seem important now,” I admitted, realizing how selfish the reason I’d finally come back to visit now felt. 

“Come on, I’ve only seen you in the city since the summer my father died. Jacky was convinced none of you Austins were ever coming back to the Island. You especially.”

“Why me?”

Leo shrugged. “With all that happened, not only your Grandfather, but the thing with Zachary, and the girl at the hospital that night-”

“Robin.”

“...yeah, Robin. I guess we thought it was too much. Too many bad memories.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that. That summer had been life-changing in a lot of ways - and most of those ways brought about by death - Commander Rodney, Ynid’s baby, Robin, Grandfather - but they were never bad memories. Difficult, painful, sad - yes. But mostly what I remembered from that summer was the light - from Grandfather’s wisdom, from Adam, from my friendship with Leo, from the dolphins. Which part of that had I really been avoiding?

“That summer was a pretty significant change in my life,” I began slowly, cognizant that for Leo that would be an understatement. “And I’m at another point in my life that is a big change, too. I guess I just wanted to remind myself that I could handle it. Change.”

Leo nodded, not asking specifics. We walked in silence the rest of the way, and Leo took my hands in his at the door. “I hope you find the answers you’re looking for, Vicky.”

“Thanks. Me too.”

***

The next morning I set out early to visit the Marine Biology station, ostensibly so I could report back to Adam when I called him later, but just as much for myself, retracing all my familiar steps. I didn’t know anyone working there now, and neither did Adam, so I didn’t go into any of the buildings, just wandered by and thought of Adam meeting me in front of the barracks, of my brother John’s boss peering into the tanks of starfish, of Jeb comforting Ynid. 

There was a cool breeze and I shivered. Without really realizing it, I’d walked to the cove where Adam and I had come to meet Basil and Norberta and Njord. It was slightly overcast and the clouds made everything look washed out, worn out - the sand, the rock, the water. The sea was calm.

I sat down on the beach while Jane ran here and there looking for sand crabs to chase, and suddenly realized I had been fooling myself about a lot of my hesitation in returning here. I could say I didn’t want to see the change in the Island or in myself, but what I was really afraid of was trying to call the dolphins. I hadn’t told Adam if I was going to, and he hadn’t asked, but looking back, I think it had been an elephant in the room between us. Since our summer together here, neither Adam nor I had spoken to dolphins again like we had with Basil and the others. Adam still worked on dolphin communication, but not always as his primary project, and more often with previously suggested scientific hypotheses. It wasn’t a disappointment, though. After that summer, I think we both wanted to keep that level of communication to ourselves. For ourselves. 

But here I was again. And all I could remember was the feeling of comfort, of acceptance, of unadulterated _joy_ that the dolphins had shared with me - the knowledge that everything was going to be okay, not just as a platitude, but a deep, _visceral_ knowing that I could get through. It was clear to me that I had come here to get that again. 

It did strike me as selfish, that after all this time I would come back just because I needed something for me. And maybe I shouldn’t try calling the dolphins, because maybe they would see that about me, if they came at all. Or perhaps something about me had changed enough that I wouldn't be able to call them. Or I could, but they wouldn’t come because something had happened to them. In all this time, they could have gotten sick, been killed. Would I be able to tell? If I called them and there was just a big, empty space instead of Basil’s perpetual smile. 

Suddenly I wished I _had_ taken Adam up on his offer to come with me - as selfish as that would have been, too. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked back and forth. Jane was at the other end of the beach, chasing a seagull, and she didn’t notice me. I felt very alone.

***

“How are the Rodneys?” Adam asked over the phone. Although he knew them through me, and had met Leo several times, I never thought of him as knowing the family. But he had known Commander Rodney - the first time I had seen Adam was at his funeral. I told Adam about the dinner, and that Nancy Rodney had been sick.

“But she’s recovering, that’s good, sweetie,” he said to me. His voice had an encouraging tone that didn’t encourage me so much as make me realize how negative I sounded.

“I went to the Marine Biology station, too. And the cove.”

There was a pause. “Did you see any dolphins?” And bless Adam for trying to make his voice as carefree as possible, for all he must have been wanting to talk to me about this since I’d told him I was coming back here. 

“I didn’t. I… I didn’t try. Adam, I don’t know why I came. Nothing’s the same, not that I expected it, really, but. I thought I could figure things out here, and I can’t. It’s just getting more jumbled.”

“Vicky, it was never going to be a magic solution, and you knew that. I think you had to visit the Island again for more than just getting a perspective on your career choices.”

“Adam-”

“You left a lot in that place that you haven’t revisited - figuratively speaking as well as literally. Of course more things are going to keep piling up.”

“‘They usually unpile eventually’?” I quoted back to him, and he laughed. 

“They do. Just- don’t worry if it’s not going along with your timeline.”

“I guess I just thought it… well I thought I would be happier, visiting again. Everything that made me happy- no, most of what made me happy… it isn’t here anymore.”

Adam sighed. “Sweetheart, you _knew_ that. What’s really going on, Vicky?”

I didn’t reply; I didn’t know how to answer. Adam changed the subject. “Have you gone to your Grandfather’s old house?”

“No.” It came out as a whisper. “I don’t think I can. I know it won’t be the same, and I can remember it so well from all the times we visited. I don’t want that memory to change.”

“It doesn’t have to, Vicky. Look, I just think you’ll regret not going.”

“I’ll think about it,” I hedged. 

“Call me tomorrow, yeah?”

“I will.”

***

My parents had sold Grandfather’s house to a young entrepreneur who had moved to the island during the year after Grandfather died; the Woods, who had originally owned the house, had vouched for the young woman who was buying it, and promised that they’d keep an eye on the place for us. My mother had kept in touch with them, but I had never asked her what happened to the house.

In my room at the bed & breakfast were the brochures Pippa had told me about, and I had flipped through them quickly, familiar with most of the places, still, until I came across one for “Eaton’s Stable Books.” It was Grandfather’s house, now a used book store, proudly advertised as a converted stable that had beautiful views from the porch overlooking one of the coves. I hid that brochure at the bottom of the pile after looking at it. It was true, what I’d told Adam: I wanted to remember Grandfather’s house as it was, when we were all visiting, even when he was sick and after he died and we were packing a lot of it up. But it was my last day on the Island, and somehow I knew Adam was right, too. I’d regret it if I didn’t go today.

Which is how I found myself at the cemetery, instead, carrying a small bouquet of wildflowers from the local market and leading Jane down the narrow path between the stones to where I had stood nine years ago, the first time I had seen Adam, at Commander Rodney’s burial. I sat down in front of the stone, placing the flowers at its base, and traced the engraving of Commander Rodney’s name and then the date of death. Grandfather wasn’t buried on the Island; I’d been to visit his grave many times since that summer, but for some reason coming here to Commander Rodney’s felt more powerful, and sad. Partly I suspected it was because I had never visited since he’d been buried. Partly too because his death had been the first that had affected me immediately, that had changed my life. And it had been the first in what would become a summer, a year of deaths that would change me, that would be close and powerful and terrible and sad. 

Jane whined and put her head down on my knee, wagging her tail slowly in the grass. The sun was out but the day had grown cool, and there wasn’t the buzz of insects that I was so used to in the summer. There were no small animals or birds around for Jane to chase. I thought of the butterfly, the brilliant gold and red Monarch that had hovered over the grave at the Commander’s burial, the one that had seemed like the focus of Grandfather’s prayer, more than the box that had just been lowered into the ground. But there was nothing around us but the graves, and a silence like the earth was holding its breath, like time had stopped and it was just Jane and I alive in this moment. 

I went to Grandfather’s house.

***

The bookstore didn’t allow pets, but there was a comfortable enough patio in front of the house - store - with a place to leash Jane, along with a few bowls of fresh water and a small jar of dog treats. I left Jane contentedly chewing on a toy; as much as I would have liked her unwavering support, I also knew there were some journeys - however small - I had to take alone.

I lingered in the doorway, ostensibly wiping my feet on the welcome mat, but really using it as an excuse to take in the way the house had been changed. Of course it was set up as a small bookstore now; we had taken or donated a lot of Grandfather’s books after he had died, but many ended up remaining with the house. I wondered if, wandering through the stalls, I would still find any I had read to Rob, or to Grandfather. The décor of the place was cheery without trying too hard: bright blues with pale yellows and greens, lots of shells and fresh flowers, mirrors to reflect the natural light. I was signing my name in the visitors’ book when a woman came in from the back of the house. 

“Hello! Welcome to Eaton’s Stable. Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

“Oh, hello,” I said shakily, unsure of how my voice was going to sound. “No, I’m… I’m just visiting. Thought I’d look around.” I shrugged and smiled, hoping to look like a tourist.

The woman smiled at me and gestured to the stalls. “Our books are arranged by topic, and the stalls are labeled. Please feel free to explore, and let me know if I can help you with anything. I’m Jasmine, the owner, but please call me Minnie.” 

I shook her outstretched hand, smiling genuinely. Even though it may have just been good business practice, her friendliness seemed honest and she instantly put me at ease. I appreciated the pleasant bustle of activity she made around the register that let me know I was being left alone to explore the books. I ran my fingers along their spines, like petting an old cat. Many of the titles were familiar, but nothing jumped out as something I would take down from the shelf and find my Grandfather’s name in, or tuna salad stains from when John had been reading at the table. 

I had been enjoying the house as a charming little used bookstore when I heard Minnie make a small noise of surprise and then saw her coming towards me.

“Are you Victoria Austin?” I realized she had been looking at the visitor book.

“Yes. Well, Victoria is my mother. I’m Vicky.” I tried to wipe my hands subtly on my jeans, in case another handshake was imminent. 

“I bought this house from your mother! It was your grandfather who owned it, wasn’t it?” Minnie looked delighted.

“Yes. I… I hadn’t been back to visit, and I wanted to…” I trailed off, not exactly sure how to finish that statement. The truth was, whatever it was, I _hadn’t_ wanted to. But Minnie didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. She was ushering me out of the science stall, over towards the ladder to the loft. 

“We have a small collection of Mr. Eaton’s writings, and items he had donated to the church on the Island. Would you like to see them?” Minnie was gesturing towards the loft, smiling and eager. Honestly I wasn’t sure I actually _did_ want to see them; and I wasn’t sure how I felt about a stranger having my Grandfather’s possessions. Did my mother know about this? I was angry thinking that she might have and never told me. On the other hand, this was the one thing I had never, ever asked about. 

“Thank you,” I said instead to Minnie, and climbed up to the loft. 

***

Somehow it was a surprise not to see cots and the big dresser in the space. Instead, there were some low chairs, a writing desk, and a bookshelf. I walked to the desk, seeing a collection of journals and papers, and was immediately relieved to see that most everything there was a copy, or something we had a copy of, like a notebook of sermons Grandfather had written to give to Mr. Hanchett. I sat down and flipped through them reverently nonetheless; I had come back to visit and wanted to remember Grandfather’s house as it had been - what better way than to read his own familiar words in this place. 

I had skimmed a few of his books and was moving them aside to reach for something new when a small bundle of papers slipped out from the back of one of the journals and fell into my hands. I sat back, stunned - they were a mess of rough drafts of poems and stories I had written - mostly for Grandfather, a few for Rob, that I had torn out of notebooks to share with him or copy over into cleaner edits while I was sitting with him. And there they all were, neatly folded and tucked away like a keepsake, as if Grandfather had wanted to keep a memory of me frozen in time, even when he also had received the newer, more polished versions of most of the poems. It had never occurred to me that it wasn’t just the writing, the poems that I gave him, but that messy, unedited _me_ was just as much something he cherished. 

***

Minnie gave me another bright smile when I came down from the loft. “Did you find anything good?” she asked cheerfully.

“Thank you, I did,” I replied, and came over to clasp her hand again, in gratitude. We spoke briefly about the Island, and the house, and I asked if she would mind if I took Jane down to the beach. 

“Of course, go right ahead! I’m so glad you stopped by. I have to ask, though. The Woods assured me that the collection I have of Mr. Eaton’s writings doesn’t contain anything the family didn’t already have. I don’t want to keep your grandfather’s personal effects separate from your family.”

I thanked her again, warmed by her thoughtfulness. I thought briefly of my smudged and scratched out scrawls of poetry, folded away in the back cover of an old journal. “No, Minnie. Everything is right where it should be.”

***

It was slow going taking Jane Eyre down the steep path to the beach, but I wasn’t in a hurry, and her joints were in much better shape than Mr. Rochester’s ever had been. The day had warmed up slightly, and the rock I always had liked to sit on was dry and sun-warmed. I let Jane play in the sand and bark at the little foamy waves, and tried to meditate. 

There were too many thoughts in my head. What did it mean that I had come back to this wonderful, familiar place and find it so changed, but still so recognizable and welcoming? What did it mean that Grandfather had kept all my first drafts, carefully stashed away like a treasure, and I had never known? What did it mean that Grandfather had always believed in me, in my writing, if, when it came down to it, I didn’t know if I believed it myself? That I could do it, for real. What did it mean that I had come back here for clarity and comfort, and - as Adam had said - things kept piling up, making me more sad and confused?

I thought of the dark, hazy, nightmare limbo I’d wallowed in after Robin - Binnie - had died in my arms at the hospital nine years ago. That summer had been so full of death, of darkness and sadness and loss. How had I gotten through it? Now, I was just confused about what to do with my life. I laughed out loud at that - nothing important, just my life. But at the same time, it did seem like such an insignificant problem. I did have a job researching. I could have a good job teaching. But neither of those things were what I wanted to do - and, no matter how successful or unsuccessful I would be at writing, I felt like more of a disappointment not doing something I really had a passion for. 

A flash of light caught my eye in the distance; it was a small pod of dolphins, the sun shining off their dorsal fins as they swam swiftly across the surface of the sea. Were my friends among them? I thought of Basil’s cartwheels, of Njord’s dolphin laughter, of the feeling of Norberta’s skin as I floated against her and she showed me pictures. I shielded my eyes against the dazzling brightness of the sea and watched the dolphins until they moved beyond my sight. There was a warmth beside me; Jane had climbed up on the rock and lain down, and I scratched her ears. 

Years ago we had all sat out by this rock and Mother had read _The Little Prince_ to us - years before that fateful summer. And a quotation from it came hurtling back to me like a thunderbolt: “ _You - you alone will have the stars as no one else has them...In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you - will have stars that can laugh_.” 

It struck me that this was the real gift that the dolphins had given me, all those years ago. Not that I could communicate with them, not that they could let me know that I would be alright, even in the face of death and darkness and despair. But that once they had showed me those things, I would always have them. Even if I never saw my friends again, even past the time when they will have died, I would always have the gift of Basil’s laughter, of Norberta’s wisdom, of Njord’s playful, innocent love. It was never joy they had given me - they had only shown a way for me to find it in myself. The light of their friendship and love - like the friendship and love of the Rodneys, or Adam, or Grandfather - was endless. 

I took a notebook and pen out of my bag, and began to write.

***  
_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "The World" by Henry Vaughan


End file.
